A Story Every Day would like your help…

You’ve probably noticed that we haven’t been posting a story EVERY day.

While this is a hard feat, and I have to recognize that (humbly, since we haven’t met the goal!), we’ve done a pretty good job. But recently, it’s been hard to keep up.

This is for a few reasons, some lame and some more legitimate:

1. I’ve been traveling.

2. It’s the holidays.

3. And here we go… submissions are low. I originally started spreading the word by posting on Craigslist – there are always hungry people on there! But, Craigslist often takes ads down when they look like other ads, and so if I posted in two cities within about 90 days of each other, this tactic didn’t really work.

And thus, A Story Every Day readers, we’re asking for your help. Can you assist us in spreading the word about A Story Every Day, and encouraging people to submit their stories, poems, photos, anecdotes, whatever they please? The submission email is: astoryproject@gmail.com

I want this relationship to be reciprocal – it’s not just for A Story Every Day. We can feature your blog, or your stories specially, or something along those lines. If you help us out, we want to help you out too.

What do you guys think? You in?

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Contra Dancing

Contra dancing as palliative per bashfulness

 

Life as a high school wallflower served me

without any budding female friendships

until lo…

a gent tulle mandate from my late mother uprooted me

from mine kempf familiar bedrock level road terrain

which venue offered a groundswell  

to blossom forth into golden sterling resplendent rod

of natural equipoise (this an unbiased opinion) and balance

with freestyle improvisational swinging motions

unchained from the moors of formality

and lit figurative saint elmo’s sesame street fiery dance

allowing, enabling and providing this shy awkward self

during his young adulthood

to cast away four ever

thy self embroidered handsome

straight as an arrow

naturally high as a kite young guy

buzzing like a yellow jacket

thus liberating spontaneity that je nais sais quoi joie vivre

clamoring headlong toward venus

from healthy pistil packing overflowing bin

laden well nigh testosterone erupting penis

toward opposite gender

whereby bravado donned as key

to hoe field of whet dreams

fostering initial albeit late blooming

roll in the hay hormonally rooted rutting squeal!

 

 

 

Oy Gevalt, by Matthew Harris

Oy Gevalt – Moi Ongepatchket Married Life!

 

Once thy future spouse (Abby Zison) found herself in the family way

  (with what would turn out to be the first of our two daughters – i do say

  determined and sealed the decision per our rolling in the figurative hay

  to wed said mother of thine deux female progeny on an agreed upon day!

 

Both of us happened to be older grown offspring at ten times thrice

  Or three plus decades to be generally precise our fate sealed no clay dice!

 

Said age difference approximately a year and a half between us two,

  and miserably living with parents, which o’er the years rancor grew!

I agreed to pledge my troth on the premise this writer

  (christened Matthew Harris) aka king o one scott the lighter

  found himself in the throes of becoming a potential mister mom

  per one dominant seminal striver a darwinian fighter!

 

Since neither of us took any precautions and thru caution to the wind

  the inevitable (i.e. a so called bun in the oven) nonetheless

  tasting supposed verboten fruits branded us as having sinned

  took us by surprise and got us necessarily biologically pinned!

Even though a decision to tie the gordian knot (more like a noose)

  per donning the role of future father tightened and n’er got loose

  an inner conflict jostled thine inner being

  against forming a legal wedded union – the deus!

 

Prior to taking that legal vow to be husband and wife

  until death doth us part before the justice of the peace

  (which building matter of fact, happens to be

  a hopper, skipper and jumper

  from where this seat experiences posterior strife

  because this gluteus maximus constitutes on bony arse

  as if being cut by a knife

  matrimonial bliss seemed like a pipe dream

  in subsequent years only to spiral into a maelstrom of some chaotic life!

 

In truth, the prospect to marry

  in general mills and aforementioned gal in particular

  hardly filled yours truly with giddy excitement

  but a decision this troubadour wished to defer and tarry!

 

Passive agreement to acquiesce by saying that necessary “I do”

  per impregnating the woman named above transpired until her belly grew

  swollen with eden liat thy current star student

  now sound asleep – counting sheep lined up in a queue

  yet lately this personal state of affairs I chronically rue

  and immerse myself in reminiscing about yesteryear

  and wonder why passivity elected as a way to escape

  utter aversion living with dad and (thy late) mom

  both in a boiling can a bull stew!

 

Predilection to play Russian roulette by avoiding any safe sexual mode

  i.e. contraceptives to avoid unplanned pregnancy

  shrugged atlas off while spermatozoa adhered to reproductive code

  which absence to use birth control also arose

  as a natural propensity to procreate from natural urges that did goad!

 

Now, less joy de vivre doth prevail

  to remain monogamous and uphold strictures from this male

fidelity, integrity morality, et cetera buts ahead without fail

from rampant testosterone urge to become appeased, fulfilled, satiated

   no matter this dozen plus year bride and groom blindly entered

   the unalterable sacred covenant whence sexual need now does ail!

 

After the birth of daughter numero dos did arrive

  the preponderance of physical gratification

  took a kamikaze nose dive

seeks special care in lass for long lasting marriage and love to strive!

… and, we’re back.

Sorry for the break in posts. I haven’t forgotten about you all, or this project. But, the holidays beckoned, as did a trip abroad to visit some friends, and it seemed an appropriate time to take off and create some stories of my own.

I hope that you’ll forgive me, and I’m happy to let you know that you can look forward to some more stories in the coming week (and weeks!) and please continue to submit your stories, thoughts, poetry, and photos. We’re looking forward to sharing them!

Raised by a Stork, by Matthew Harris

Raised by a Stork

Beak cause of being taken under wing by the kindness of this U crane relative, I pay
written homage to my ability to fend for myself and fly in the face of adversity!

Left abandoned under the shade of a sequoia tree when just born, my birth parents
never known to me!

Pink flamingoes and pelicans essentially constitute social structure, thus helping to
explain erratic flapping motions and diving head first into billions of waterways in search
of prey!

Heights of Ash and berries (such as those found in Acapulco and/or Baja, California)
give me a rush, especially when catching the atmospheric headwinds and soaring like
Icarus!

Although just a clumsy, fledgling gangly mass of skinny legs and feathers, a push from
me famous mother worm monger (the superb flier Harriet) found immediate fear when
warmly booted from out the nest!

Rather than be a bird din, this automatic instinct in the aviary species witnesses little
tufts of soft downy pirouetting in a downward spiral when just before making contact
with land, the natural reflexive welcome visits!

Fortunate for yours truly that an exceptional ability to escape an untimely close call
with terrestrial firmament witnessed an amazing power (e quill to pluribus Unum) to jet
far into the stratosphere where eagles soar!

Although bequeathed with such exemplary powers to wrench away from the tug of
gravity, I downplayed this skill and feigned being brought into this world (in the hands
of some unknown person) an ordinary set of claws with an atypical noteworthy tail
comprising prismatic colors when fanned out!

Always one to maintain modesty, the extraordinary ability to display awesome aerial
stunts fueled rumors within all four corners of the globe!

All the major squawk show hosts such as osprey winfrey, morey egret, springer falcon,
et cetera scrambled to enlist such feats of lighter than air ballet escapades!

Like the taste of fresh fish on salmon enchanted evening, I savored the adulation, yet
also felt obliged to provide for the surviving parents no matter that she hen pecked his
only male heir to the architectural splendor of his domain!

This equates to this wordy tweet!

Kay T Jewels: The Who I am essay, Part Two

www.facebook.com/kaytitaniumjewels
Life came and by chance I had a kid at age 21, a Family of my own. How it happened was

sheer luck and a bitter twist of fate at the age of 20. Out seeking revenge I fell into the hands of

someone who was as equally angry as me. He was even angry with some of the same person

as I. After the initial fear of telling the farther to be I was pregnant had passed and he did not

reject me. Instead he promised to love and protect me. I was then so relieved I could stop

running I said to him “Then I shall love you too”

For the next nine months I lived in his mother’s basement. Which was awful because I hate the

basement, I hate the dark and bugs too. However I did not complain. I worked every day for 8

and half months at a coffee shop while I was pregnant. I slept on an old fashioned military bed

and woke every morning with morning sickness. While I got ready at 4 a.m. to go to work the

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The Who I am Essay 2011

smell of the low tide from the sea seeped in my window. The forty min ride to work I puked the

whole way, and still I was grateful.

When I grew fat with pregnancy I loved it. I was so happy she was such a miracle to me. When I

delivered my baby on May 11, 2004, I was moved into an apartment. I signed the lease from my

hospital bed. Soon after I was home I sat in bed I grabbed my journal and pen.

I then write in the journal I kept by my bed. I was in my new apartment on the sixth floor of a tall

towering brick building. It was 2004 I had just had my daughter and nine months of safety within

thy future enemies’ hands.

I can’t believe I have found a place where I don’t ever want to

leave. Spring has come and a new life has begun. I finally have

the family I craved since I was young. I now consider my old life

good and deceased for I have found some love and a place to live

in peace.

I have found a place where I feel safe and loved, a place where I

belong. A place where silence is a welcoming song, this is place

where no one wants me gone, a place where I am not always

wrong.

This is something I have always wanted and something I never

had to call my own. It is called a home. To me a home is where

people love me and I have people to love. It’s simple, it is plain

but since it has come I’ve started to feel sane and not so much

pain

Thanks you so much

Love me

I left my journal open that night, on the bed side table under the light, for my daughters father to

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The Who I am Essay 2011

read that night. It was the only way I had to express my gratitude to this man. This same man,

whom had fathered my baby, yet was practically a stranger to me. He did not even know my

name was K.

To my daughter I write….

My little angel sent from above, Changed my whole life, she has

filled it with love.

She flew in like a dove so beautiful and white; she has created

a bond that is secure and tight. Gone is the darkness for she is

my light. So innocent and pure, she is the reason I am here, this I

know for sure.

She made me strong and gave me the will to go on. For her I

will fight against all that is wrong. She depends on me to make

everything right, to cherish, love and protect her thru life.

Laughter is the only song I wish her to sing; to her it is

unconditional love I bring. The sound of her happiness is music to

my ears; it has a way of easing all my fears. Only for her would I

acknowledge defeat, accept that I had been beat. I would lay my

soul down at the devil's feet.

To him I would say

"This is the price I would pay, if you would let my daughter be, if

you would only set her free, to you I will give me

I will pay my toll and sell the devil my soul

In return all I would ask of him is this, everlasting happiness and

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The Who I am Essay 2011

safe passage thru your evil world for my precious baby girl.

For this I would gladly give him my soul to burn.

Gone are the days when I only think of myself here are the days

when I think only of her

I do not miss yesterday for it is gone, today is here and tomorrow

is near,

Yesterday I lived only for me, today, tomorrow and forever more…

I live only to care for her!

Things changed about three months after she was born. She was perfect; she and I were

always great. However her dad and I suddenly began to fight. I’m not sure what started the first

one but it was brutal and scaring to say the least. It never really ended after that. Always made

to feel as though it wasn’t enough, always accused of things I wasn’t doing, I could never make

him happy. However I held my ground and in year two of motherhood I write to my daughter.

Though the last two years have been filled with many fears and a

lot of tears, I wouldn't change one second of them.

For I have been giving the blessing of watching my baby grow

and learn.

Each and every day I have been blessed with the gift of watching

you play, rediscover an old toy, listening to you laugh with joy for

each new word you learn to say. Every step of the way, I have

been able to love and teach you in my own crazy way.

Somewhere along the line I was enlightened to the fact that you

have been not only listening and learning, but you have been

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The Who I am Essay 2011

doing some teaching of your own. You have taught me the true

meaning of love without before saying your first word.

You are my angel of love and mercy, you are my miracle, you

bring me endless amounts of inspiration, and you deliver me from

my darkest days in the most unique ways.

When I hold you, I can see all the wrongs and pains in life, all the

hurdles in our way, but my confidence does not waver, for I can

also see in your eyes that you believe that, I can do anything.

You are amazing and most defiantly the greatest thing I have

done or will ever do in my life.

I know every choice I have ever made or sad day I have had to

face brought me to you and you to me. There are no accidents

or mistakes each moment in time was meant to be. You were

created by me and born to me for a reason you have a purpose

and meaning are my one true love and only child.

I have sworn to love and protect you on your journey thru this

world. This oath is the only oath that I have ever taken, but it is

one that I would die trying to keep.

To my father I write,

Dear Dad,

As a child there were many times when you had to go far away. Sometimes you could take me

with you other times I had to stay.

Whether we went together or you went on your in our hearts we were never alone. You always

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The Who I am Essay 2011

remembered me, when you couldn’t take me with; you always brought me a surprise.

A locket from France, some chocolate from Germany, and really so much more

On the trips we took together sometimes you had to work but, most times you blew it off and

took me out to play.

On those very special times when you could steal me away

I saw The Magic Kingdom, took pictures of shadows of people we didn’t even know, rode rides

and saw places I only dreamed of. How it made my young heart glow.

As a young adult in need of some space to learn and grow

I saw the coast of California, a place I always wish I could go. I had the breakfast at the Sugar

Shack, ate lunch at Huntington Beach and at night we ate at the nicest restaurants I had ever

seen.

As a young mother struggling to my best, knowing you are just a phone call away put my minds

at rest

For whether I am in need of words of wisdom, encouragement, love or just answers to questions

only a parent would know. If my car is broken down, or my heart is sinking, when the storms are

wild and my ship is rocking to and fro, when my ship is lost at sea and it is to foggy for me to

see

You always find a way to lead me safely back to bay. You always stay with me until the raging

storms have passed my way. You comfort me in my darkest hours; you came for me when no

one else would. Like no other has before or probably ever will again you see past my mask of

deception. You know what my real smile looks like. You can thru my eyes to the very bottom of

my soul.

When I finally saw that it did not matter what face I put on, that you always knew how I was

feeling on the inside. Happy, sad, angry or blue was when I knew I need not hide from you. I

knew then that all I had to do when I was with you was just be me.

I know now that I am a parent that parents always question if they know just what to do. We will

always wonder the “what ifs of life” and if we did the right thing. In case you ever wondering if

you did right, I just wanted to tell you tonight

That you did the very best you could as a parent, you still do amazing things for me even now

that I am an adult. I could not have a better farther than you even if I could have picked him

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The Who I am Essay 2011

myself.

I love you Daddy and I Always will love you truly

Kristen

To my mother I write,

Dear mother,

I know you don’t believe me when I say that you’re

the best. You are better than all the rest, you have

passed all the tests. Now is your time to rest

Growing up you and I did not always agree, there

really wasn’t much time for you and me. Even this

you managed somehow to get to know a part of me.

Time has passed and I have grown, now I make

important decisions all on my own I have determined

that,

Some things have to change others don’t. We will

probably never agree and that’s Okay with me.

There will never be enough time but you will always

make some time for me.

Now that I am older I can clearly see the two things

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The Who I am Essay 2011

that will never change are,

How much I Love you and how much you mean to

me.

Love

Krissy

Years passed and brought us to 2009. When my home and life had grown to be a place

I could no longer exist, I went back to the meadow again. I was safe sitting by my brook

with my mirror and candles that I always took. The baby was safe with Kristen and

Krissy and they could protect her better than I as I was just a child myself. I watched

them from my mirror just to be sure.

Though it pained me to hear her words, I knew she was right. There wasn’t all that much I could

I do about it, after all. So I gazed on threw the mirror at the hour glass in her hand and smiled as

she told me told how she felt.

‘I’m bored and restless, waiting for ever. You always say “No, not today!” I can’t take it anymore

the silence is unbearable, it is worse to not know. I’m waiting for the phone to ring, the door to

open, someone to come in. How can you stand to sit and wait?’

‘Well it happened to be your great folly, my friend. Your errors cost me dearly, once before and

never again will it fall that way. I’ll send a message when its time, until then she will be fine. Just

sit tight and don’t cause any needless fights ‘

She walked over and flipped the hour glass one more time, sat down and stared out the window

past her reflection. ‘Was today the day? Would I ever escape? Was I destined to feel this way

forever?’ Like the sand in this glass am I never to be free? Flipping from side to side, always

pouring my way to half empty. One grain of sand, for every tear my eyes have seen. How could

life be so mean? So tempting and alluring, yet leave me so much pain and morning‘

The door opened and in he came…

“Hello, glad your home. I just was thinking of you.”

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The Who I am Essay 2011

“You were? Good thoughts I hope.” He said walking past her headed for the bedroom

“Of course ….. Did I mention that house I saw the other day? It was so nice can’t wait to move

into it, so cute, quiet, a nice fence and big yard.

“Yea, yea, Kristen three times already, I know about the house, Geesh! I swear sometimes

woman, I think you’re smart and other times you just say the same things over and over. “ he

yelled down the stairs

“Oh and I’m going to the gym ” I called up to him looking at the clock. Gathering my gym bag,

and putting on my sneakers I walk right past the mirror without even looking in it. However I look

over my shoulder to ease my sense that someone is watching me. No one is, that I can see so I

walk out and lock the door.

“That asshole its ten am and he’s just getting in. Your gunner let her be all nice to him. I would

have wrung his neck, and then called his mom and told her to buy a plot because her low life

son was on his way home in a body bag. Then I would have..”

“I know a hundred dirty tricks as well; I have spent so much time watching I know em’ all as well

as you. This time is the last time though, we can’t afford a mistake. This time when I go out, it is

for good. To blow it now is to throw years of your work hiding me away in the trash. I have plan

we just have to be at the new house for it to work!”

“God you sound like an alcoholic, changing the geography isn’t going to change anything. Your

problems are your own, no matter where you are. Think!! It will be half the weight if we drop that

baggage now. “

“Krissy, I have plan but we have to wait. This stuff only happens once in a life time. The stars

have to be right, please, please, please don’t rush this one. You are going to love what I have

planned. Don’t worry everyone will be happy in the end.”

Kristen gets in the car, and starts the engine and pulls off heading to the highway and

Krissy takes over.

Looking in the rear view, I put my left blinker on and zip into the fast lane. Turn the radio up,

switch the radio onto my favorite cd and started singing..” He treats me fine….But I could be

better. You bring the wine and I’ll bring the letter…”

Looking in the mirror, I smile and can’t help but notice my hat dangling of it. Never did

understand my connection to that dingy thing but there it dangled anyway. Turning brown from

the baking in the sun, the label still read KRISSY and that was all that really mattered.

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The Who I am Essay 2011

‘You’re so bad; you know it and like it, that’s what makes you especially awful. You take

pleasure in watching others dismay, you really should watch what you say. People have

feelings, even if you like to pretend you don’t. Kay may forgive you but the rest of the world

won’t. When you’re done admiring yourselves would you mind watching the road, another car is

merging this way ’

‘I’m delightful; I don’t know what you’re talking about. My honesty is refreshing and most

welcome people know not so ask me if they don’t want to know. People need to hear the truth,

even when it hurts. The world isn’t going to sugar coat it why should I’

I lay my right hand on the horn, “BEEEEEP BEEEEEP “ and a flip of the middle finger takes

care of that guy..

‘Well…. to be on the side of fairness.. I enjoy you’re honesty and I do find it refreshing, however

I wish you would have a bit more discretion about it. Like that old man you just flipped off was

that REALLLy needed? I just can’t help, being reserved and guarded. It’s my way, to think of

others feelings first. I don’t like thinking bad about anyone.’

“More like you can’t, that’s my miserable job and you only have yourselves to thank for that. I

think you should be grateful, I mean that just my opinion.”

I pull off the highway and turn into the gym parking lot. Rolling up my window and checking my

makeup I am off to make my incredibly sexy body, even sexier. I stop at the mirror in the locker

room, throw my hair up in a ponytail and plug in my ear buds.

‘You really are going to do this to me again. My back is killing me and my knees too. I can’t

stand this. How did you and K get control and I get stuck up here?’

‘Shut the hell, up about your pain. That is exactly why you’re in there and we are out here. That

and you can’t hear us when you’re out, which impairs our plan. ’ I jump on the elliptical and start

the settings to uphill. I turn the TV on so it looks like im watching it and stare at the girl in the

mirror.

‘We’re almost there K, it won’t be long now. What are you going to do with this body, once it’s

complete? Feel like cluing the rest of us in? I can’t believe you haven’t told us yet, and yet here I

am running on this silly machine anyway.’

‘No I don’t plan on telling you. In fact this is a lesson in trust; you need to have some, in me and

in others. This is my life and you guys have hi jacked it, and no offence, fucked it all up. I know

you guys were trying to help me so, I won’t hold it against you.

20

untitled prose

by Ari

walking alone down empty city streets in the rain is romanticized because someone found romanticism in the misery of the little drops of water that soaks through skin, runs down bones, and dissolves arteries til my heart is a dirty puddle on the side of the road. if only the streams running into the gutters were melted transparent walls. if only the oxygen mask could be lifted so that you could choke on your first breath of real air. i would embrace the IV at once. i would let the cold run through my veins. at the sight of your asphyxiation, i would allow my blood to stop flowing. i would welcome the end of days.

This raggedy man

by Matthew Harris

This raggedy man

whilst deep in sleep
this past night
what felt like galactic body fell upon this slumbering heap
affecting immediate fear lest worst nightmare would crush with might
but lo…just thee spouse plunked herself with unconsciousness deep
unable to recapture pleasant dreams well nigh past day light.

rather than emit shrieks like some angry birds
the idea arose to attempt poem to express discombobulated state
whereby grey matter feels similar to thick whey curds
palliative sans restorative power per rest will clear muddled pate
thick with grogginess and marauding herds
of mailer daemons worse than unsuitable mate
or a world wide web filled with nerds
thus lethargy purged via catharsis with forming words
that follow rhyming pattern to convey mood = to a synonym for turds.

respite from a cat nap as tonic no lion here
can spell relief and serve as balm
with pillow as temptress ever so near
beckons softly inviting calm
before this human goes a berserk manic tear
being revisited from haunts inside head of this mister mom
caught by men in white coats strait jacketing maniac in tattered under wear
whose tushy by the way oh about the size of an average palm
yet taut for witnessing deux score plus twelve mortal year.

A Fateful Friday, by Christopher Keller

Once upon a time there lived a college boy who was low on gas. It was the beginning of the week, but he was only drive to parking lots and back, so he figured he could fill up at the end of the week. This decision was a monumental one, for little did he know that this decision, along with a slightly more constructive one, would cause “The Stress-Filled Day” to begin.

This boy (we’ll call him Phil, short for “Philanthropist”) went through the week, having a pretty great one, in fact, despite the massive workload choking away his life. He had recently acquired a tremendous boon, one that he often kept with him to bring sunshine to the cloudy days, even though it wasn’t entirely fond of the sunlight it brought about.

Anyway, the week went on, and Phil’s car was driven more and more, and the gas meter dropped lower and lower like an elevator with its cords cut. At this point you’re probably thinking this is a story about running out of gas – let me assure you immediately that this is not at all the case of this story.

Wednesday night was a night any 40-year-old living in their parents basement would dream about, since Star Wars was the setting for being with a real, live girl, but Thursday was far less eventful. However, once again, this is not a romantic comedy or tragic love lost story, this story strictly concerns the events of Friday, May 19.

French. Lost bets, hopes undashed after being dashed and then forcefully dashing them led up to a frantic walk across campus to pick up a car required to car pool three people not entirely wanting to be carpooled, but were carpooled nevertheless. With a forty-minute window to get to his destination, by the time the adventurers were gathered there was only twenty minutes left, and a gas light that had been on since the day before (at least). So a stop at the gas station left them even less time; so little time that Phil only put in ten dollars worth of gas – which, at today’s exorbitant prices, meant not so much.

Fortunately, the larger half of Margris has an uncanny knack for breaking the law and getting away with it, so Phil entrusted his fate to him while driving 70 in more than one 55 zone. They made it on time, but not after a necessary turn around to avoid construction halts, a yarding truck, a combine, and a mysterious gas tanker seemingly set by the Lord Himself perpendicular to the road, trying to turn around.

Upon arriving at the theatre, Phil had to make a quick decision between viewing pleasure and a far more preferable seating arrangement; in the haste of it all he perhaps chose a regrettable answer, but the possibility of changing his mind was quickly squelched. Fortunately for him, the lost choice was, for a brief moment (hereafter known as “intermission”), available to him, but once again made itself scarce once the entire ordeal was over with, leaving Phil to dine with only his carpool.

Finally arriving home once again, Phil decided not to waste the day, but instead work towards a looming goal. Sadly, he made steps even a baby could have outpaced, but they were steps nonetheless, so he really couldn’t complain. But he did. He wanted to make up the time of Thursday and the Friday ordeal, though prior engagements prevented more than a one-hour reprieve, punctuated by being forced into the public eye. A quick fleeing soon followed, and Phil parted for his abode once again.

Unbeknownst to him, his prior engagements at the Sandy actor’s theatre production of “Play It Again Sam” would begin in nearly 2 hours – his companion had already left, and called to let him know the tickets were reserved. However, after packing and preparing for the greater Portland area, he was down to 1 hour and 40 minutes to reach his destination: a slightly tight yet achievable goal. Shortly after leaving, though, the red-headed ball of energy called to let him know to drive through Independence to avoid a traffic accident, which undoubtedly cost him far more time getting to and through Independence in the middle of the day than the car accident (which had probably dissipated by then) would have taken. Nevertheless, our intrepid adventurer continued on.

Traffic was poor in odd places, and after a clog on 99, he decided to up his speed a little bit more over the speed limit, right past the waiting radar gun of a motorcycle cop. Being the fastest car in the pack, he was a little worried; this worry was exacerbated to a death-fear as the cop lowered his radar gun and headed towards his bike. Panicked, Phil got into the slow lane and turned into the next side street available, which turned out to be a parking lot. Scared to death at the consequences of the attempted evasion should he be discovered, he humbly turned around in the lot and hoped against hope the cop hadn’t pursued him.

Apparently some of the Margris gene was still embedded in the backseat of the car, for Phil continued on undeterred.

Somewhat wary, Phil went far slower than his earlier trek to the opera house, and was making livable time until the unthinkable happened: the gas light came on again. Apparently ten dollars worth of gas really won’t get you that far. He passed, Oregon City, Clackamas, Portland, and by Fairview he knew he needed gas. Already flustered by the mental mangling of the day’s many moments, he was forced to do a stoplight-left-turn and cross traffic again to get into the gas station he found after oh-so-long. To add insult to injury, he pulled up on the wrong side of his car; a feat he had never to his memory transgressed before this fateful Friday.

Flustered, Phil circled around and pulled up on the right side of the gas tanks. Unwilling to allow the rest to proceed peacefully, the garbled English of the gas attendant, after several attempts, revealed that not only could he not use his credit card, but that he had to pay inside. Please note that by this time he had approximately ten minutes to get about ten minutes to his destination. Slightly irked by the trouble translating the attendant’s instructions, he grabbed his wallet, rolled up his window, locked and slammed his car door, and headed in to pay for another ten bucks of gas.

I repeat: He grabbed his wallet, rolled up his window, locked and slammed his car door, and headed in to pay for another ten bucks of gas. There is a key event missing in this process that would allow him to make it to his destination on time, n’est-ce pas?

He realized this as he approached the cashier. Realizing this could cause his mood to swing violently, he decided to instead take action – he grabbed a king-size Snickers bar and bought it along with his measly amount of gas into the now unenterable car. Fortunately for him (as unfortunate as the day had been, he ruefully realized how many “fortunately”s there also were in the fateful day), the cashier was friendly enough to let him use his phone to contact the matriarch or his brood and beg her to bring a spare key. She arrived twenty minutes later, and they convoyed all the back to his parent’s domicile, finally accepting the fact that Sam would have to play it again some other day.

On the way home he called his good friend Drawback Zack, the punk rocker and LAN party staple, who arranged to have him and his friend E (not a drug reference, this is a real person) come over for some Warcraft III craziness. All went according to plan there (Read: an hour’s worth of set-up, multiple install attempts and firewall fiddlings like strawberry fields forever) until Zack revealed to Phil that his girlfriend of four years had just “mutualishly” terminated their monogamous affair. A harsh scar of bitterness never before present in Zack made Phil want to weep for his punk rocker (but soon to be emo) friend, though the masculine mandates forbid any such shows of emotion.

The gaming was pleasant enough, but once that was over, Phil’s best friend of six years sent a message letting him know that she, also, had jumped back into the great fish pond of loneliness just this night. He suddenly realized he had upset the balance of nature – three significant figures of his life had, since three weeks ago Sunday, gone kaput in the S.O. section. He pondered to himself what long term effects would arise from this, but resolved to stand up against nature’s ugly head and ride out this storm. Especially since the entire time the driving disaster had been happening, his thoughts kept resting on that one element that he knew would have calmed him – not a little bit frustrated that rehearsals had built up to prevent any Friday night fun.

But the clock struck 1:35 AM, and he knew he had to draw the story to a close. So he did. Even though his gas light was still close to coming on once again.

The Great Indigo Squid

The Great Indigo Squid

By Kris Levin

The great indigo squid residing

A goodish amount of leagues

Under the sea, latches onto me,

Pulls me down into its murky depths.

Unsettled dirt clog a formerly beautiful

Tranquil aquatic atmosphere as

Immense appendages pin my struggling form

Like a dragonfly caught in a spider’s web.

Stunted electric blue tentacles emerge

From out the mammoth beast’s beak.

Hanging sublimely suspended

Like a dancing lightning storm

Caught in time before my very eyes.

Entranced as I watched these electrical,

Fairy-like projections,

The creature let me go,

But leave I did not.

The bolts extended serenely towards

My person as I looked past its spectacle

Into this demon’s glowing bloodshot orbs.

Transfixed, I tried to scream, but alas,

I surrendered that privilege once I left the air above.

Unable to move as they jutted towards me,

Heart thumping madly to the point of combustion,

Filling with fears, pressures and anxieties,

Terror grabbing a-hold of me like a live wire,

Latching onto my chest like a parasitic infection,

Lungs constricted under its all-powerful grip;

Absorbing the very life-force and energy from my body.

Mind faint, world spinning, the monster set me free.

Floating to the surface, coughing and sputtering,

I feebly begin to swim back to the shore.

Always will I remember the tremendous journey.

Always will I bear its weight and scars.

Always in the watchful eye

Of the great indigo squid.